Until we Fall
by Malta-chan765
Summary: History is huge, and the nations know that. They have lived through it all. But before now, no one knew their whole story. Through poems, diary entries, and more, these tales will unfold before everyone.
1. Chapter 1 UNtil we Fall

History expands until forever,

Until we fall.

But very few capture it how it is, with nations who are living

And who fight their own battles, leading their people in hopes this won't be the end.

Popularity reigns in Europe where empires rise and fall

And where relationships are made and destroyed.

This story has a start, but not yet a finish

For the world is still turning.

But we will explore its highlights and shadows, my dear readers

In the footsteps of our good friends the nations.

Follow America through revolutions and growth

And watch England battle through life and against France.

See Japan grow and open up his eyes to the world,

And enjoy Italy's experience with it all.

Happiness will be present, but also pain

For nations are not perfect and will make mistakes.

But most of them continue living, even if a few deal the final blow

And they will find harmony in enjoying the greatness they had.

Each and every nation will tell their stories,

Starting with Davie and ending up who knows where.

But these tales will be told in a mix of styles

Depending on the narrator, the mood, an the time.

So hold on tight to your belongings and dreams

For nothing else will be as short as this, nor as light hearted.

History has no limits, and it will keep rolling onward

Until we fall.


	2. Chapter 2 Davie

"Who are You?"

"I am Davie."

"Can we be friends, Davie?"

"Of course! I tell you what? I have a really cool flower collection back home. Do you wanna see it?"

"Okay!" A little boy, whose name was Alfred F. Jones, aka what was to become the United States of America took the boy's hand and followed him back home. The house was gorgeous. The outside was constructed of a lightly painted wood, and a huge front porch greeted them. On either end, porch swings drifted in the breeze. Inside was just as beautiful. A darkened hallways led to some bedrooms, and in the front of the house, a kitchen was situated next to a cozy little living room fit with a fireplace and rocking chairs.

Davie pulled an old book out of a drawer. "Do you want to go back outside to look at these?"

"Yes, please!" America nodded.

America had never sat on a porch swing before, but he found that he quite liked it. It was not super scary, but it was much less boring than sitting on an ordinary chair. _Those were for ordinary people, _he decided. For hours they looked at all the different flowers, marveling at all the pinks, blues, oranges, yellows, and greens. But one page was empty.

"Where is that flower?" America traced his hand across the blank space.

Davie chuckled, "That is the page dedicated to a flower I have only been told about. On old sailor, actually, was the man. It is small, with a periwinkle blossom about the size of your hand, and its leaves are perfectly round. I have heard that it is rare and hard to come by, but I would give anything to have one."

"I can get you one," America tugged his sleeve. "I can find it."

"Really?" Davie stared at America.

America nodded. "I _can!_ E-Arthur can help me. He is my big brother!"

"Arthur Kirkland? I believe I met him once. I owe him for saving me on my voyage here. Say, can you return something to him for me?" Davie turned around and lifted an old musket out from under a floor board. Even though it was made a while before, it had hardly been used and still glared with a fine polish. "Arthur gave this to me, and I wanted to give it back. I have no use for it. But make sure to hold it away from your face or it might fire and hurt you."

"I won't hurt myself, Davie!" America promised. He lifted the gun, using surprisingly little of his strength despite the weight and hauled it off the porch.

Davie waved, "Bye, kid! Go far and make your life worth it!"

"I'm Alfred!" America said. "My name is Alfred!"

When America got home, he looked. He looked, and he looked, and he looked for that flower. But nowhere did it appear. He searched for it under bushes and in trees. He peeked behind waterfalls and underneath stones. But the flower never showed up/

A few months passed, and America failed to see Davie or the flower. He spent his time in solitude, building his nation and trying to grow, although with the refusal of his colonies to expand, he did not grow taller.

Then England visited. "Iggy! Iggy!" America had been ecstatic to see his brother.

"Hello, America. You haven't been too lonely without me, have you?" England patted America's head.

America shook his head. "Nope! I made a friend! His name is Davie!"

"A friend?" England's smile faded. "America, you need to be careful about who you make friends with. We are different, and sometimes that can separate us from many things. Davie does not sound like the kind of person you should have as a friend."

"But Davie knows you! He wanted me to give you something!" America ran to his room, returning shortly afterward with the musket.

England sighed, "Put that thing away, Alfred."

"Why?" America trembled. England never called him Alfred. Not unless it was serious.

""Because," England hesitated. "You won't understand. Just put it in the closet."

"Yes, sir," America dragged the gun ou of England's sight. When he came back, tears were in his eyes.

England lifted America into his arms. "I'm sorry, America. I know this makes you sad now, but when you grow up, you will understand. You know you are a nation like one of us, and we don't live in the same span as humans do. It can hurt to fall in love with or become friends with one of them, because when they are... gone... well... You just have to trust me. Never become friends with a human, and be careful who you... your nation... kill... Can I trust you to follow this, America?"

"Yes, England," America sniffled.

England smiled, "Cheer up, lad. Why don't we go do something?"

"Do you have periwinkle flowers?" America hiccuped.

"Back in England, I do, yes. Why?" England sat America in a chair.

"Can you get some? I heard about them from a man at a store. I want to know if they are real," America lied.

England straightened his coat, "Of course I have some. I can bring you some next time I come."

"Thank you, Iggy!" America grinned.

"Really, America, where did you learn that from? That frog France hasn't been visiting you, has he?" England groaned.

"No!" America scrunched up his face, "Ewwwww!"

"Good. Now I should get going if I am going to get you your flowers." England stood.

America leapt at England, "No! Don't go, Iggy! Stay! I don't wanna be alone!"

"America," England hugged the young nation, "I have to leave. I willbe back soon with your flower. I will never leave you forever, so don't be so sad. You will be fine."

"But I am so lonely!"

"Listen to me, America. Feeling lonely is a choice. You do not have to be lonely. Just remember that I will be back, and it will help you. You are lucky, Alfred, to have someone here for you as you grow up. Most nations don't have have your brother- me- and I care for you a lot. I would never abandon you. Ever." England sighed. "Now, I will stay with you just for dinner. After all, you are the only one who will eat my food."

"Thank you, Iggy!"

"You really should stop calling me that, you know. It is not gentleman-like."

This time England was gone for years. And despite what England told him, America was lonely. He never saw Davie, for he had vowed not to return until he had the flower. America had yet to grow, but he never noticed, not once.

"America! I have your flower!" England called out when he returned.

"Yay!" America took the flower. It practically glowed in his hands. Davie would love it. The moment England left again, America hurried down the long path to Davie's house.

"Davie! Davie! I have your flower!" America ran inside, straight to Davie, who was talking to another man. But Davie was different. He was taller with a longer face and wispy white hair. And his face was covered with nasty lumps and wrinkles. "Davie?"

"Who-" Davie paused, "Why, you have that flower. Where did you find it?"

"It is for you! I promised I would give it to you!" America was triumphant.

Davie shook his head, "I am not quite sure I remember you. Still, thank you so much for the flower. It means a lot to me, kid."

"I am Alfred, remember?" America reminded him, "but I have to go before Arthur comes back. Bye, Davie!"

Some time after America returned, England came back for another visit, but he never suspected a thing about America's friendship with Davie, for America had become a good liar.

"Hey, America. I got you some flowers They were the ones you like." England brought in a bouquet of Davie's special flowers.

In that moment, what America felt was irresistible.

Those flowers were for Davie.

And he had to bring them to him right _now. _Not sooner, not later. _Now._

"Hey, Iggy. I'm hungry." America tugged at England's elbow.

Englad frowned, "But you just ate!"

"So? I want a snack." America begged.

"Fine," England said. "Just stay right here and I will make you something. How do scones sound?"

"Perfect!"

Once England was in the kitchen, America ran. America ran with the flowers spilling out of his arms. "Davie!" He was smiling, laughing, even. But when he got to Davie's front lawn, there was a crowd all decked in black. They were crying. The whole lot of them. America crept up to a long black box positioned in front of everyone. Inside was Davie. America dropped the flowers on his chest, not comprehending. Why was Davie sleeping in front of everyone like this? He was making them cry. Was this even Davie? He did not remember America. The nation whipped around to find another boy not much older than him standing just a few feet away. This boy looked exactly like davie, except for one thing. His eyes glinted with hatred and denial, something America never saw in the first Davie. The first Davie and the wrinkly Davie both had kindness. This Davie did not. He seemed to hate America.

America whimpered, "Davie? Davie, what's going on?" The weird Davie turned away. America was frightened. Everyone grew ten feet in height before him and ten times as scary. They were monsters. They were beasts. They were there to hurt him.

Tears streamed down his face, and America whirled around. No one was watching him. No one was there to help. He was helpless.

"Alfred!" Someone grabbed America's shoulders and yanked him to his feet.

"Davie?" America blinked, expecting to see Davie, but instead, he found England staring at him, "Iggy?"

"What are you doing, Alfred? When I went to get you from the living room, you were gone and your flower vase was shattered! I thought someone had kidnapped you or killed you! You... you git, Alfred! Don't do that to me! I thought you were **_dead!_** I lost you!" England sank to his feet and clutched America tightly against him. America shook; he had never seen England cry like this before. America was supposed to be the one tocry. He was the little kid after all, not England. But in the moments that followed, America began to realize why exactly England was crying. He was scared. He thought America was gone. It was like in America's dreams where England was missing and there was no way for America to find him. He would wake up crying and England would sometimes come in to comfort him. Other times, America would be alone and would have to comfort himself.

"I'm sorry, England. I just wanted to give davie the flowers. I wanted him to be happy." America snuffled into England's shoulder.

"It's okay, Alfred, but you can't do that again. Davie is gone. You will never see him again, but he is in a place now that has millions of those flowers. So let's go home and have us some dinner, shall we?" England lifted America and carried him home, smiling when he fell asleep in the Brit's arms before the sun even set. For the next decade or so, England visited more often and for longer periods of time. America grew quickly and soon became even taller than England. But as history goes, his regular visits grew thin, and war eventually erupted between the two. Even then, in the time that America was still young and innocent, there was a bond between the two. A bond that was never fully broken. A bond of love so strong that it could only be found between siblings. Not a romantic love, like some mistaken people would try to convince people of, but a familial love that passes between kin. It was unbreakable, built by promises and disputes, by tragedies and adventures such as that of this one.


End file.
